


Because it was you I called it a different story

by phanjessmagoria



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Library Sex, M/M, Michael is an awkward dork but he snags Calum anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8194444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phanjessmagoria/pseuds/phanjessmagoria
Summary: Michael found himself saying words that he didn’t really think he had had any intention, or reason, to say.
“I’m Michael, by the way.”
The librarian paused, tore the receipt that printed out and tucked it into the front cover of the book. He held up Michael’s library card. “I know.” He gave a wry smile and slid the book over to Michael, placing his card on top of it with a snap.
“Right, yeah,” Michael said. He took the book, but when he saw the librarian turning away, checking if there was anyone waiting in line, he blurted out, “What’s your name?”
The brown eyes were back on him, their inherent warmth radiating out from them even with the slightly bemused expression that was on the man’s face, until finally, he spoke. “Calum.”





	

“Hi,” Michael said, resting his elbows on the counter, leaning over it and speaking specifically to one librarian, even though he was pulling a book off of a shelf at the back of the space. “Sorry, can you tell me where you have a copy of The Silmarillion?”

Two of the other librarians, who were seated at their computers, frowned over at Michael as they turned to look at him.

“I can help you over here, young man,” one of them said; she had white hair piled on top of her head and looked very much like a cheerful grandmother except for the fact that she was scowling.

“Oh, it’s ok,” Michael said, turning to glance at her and wave her assistance away as he focused back on the librarian he was actually interested in speaking to, who was now approaching him, the thick volume in his hands. He sat down at his chair and picked up the phone, ignoring Michael, though he did look at him over the rim of his thick glasses. His gaze was full of pure disdain.

“Mrs. Ramirez,” he said, his thick hair falling over his forehead, though not obscuring his eyes—Michael could see that, despite the coldness they held looking at him, they were still a gorgeous brown color, warm despite themselves. “Yes, I have the book right here for you. You can come in and pick it up tonight.” He paused. “Yes, I’ll be here until we close. Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

He hung up the phone and turned back to his computer, clicking a few things on screen with his mouse. It was a long few minutes before he finally turned back to the blue-haired boy still standing in front of him.

“Yes?” he demanded rather than asked, adjusting his glasses a little further up his nose.

“The Silmarillion,” Michael repeated. “Can you show me where you keep it?”

“It’s with the rest of Tolkien’s novels,” the librarian said. “Which I showed you two weeks ago. Downstairs.”

Michael licked the corner of his mouth, held his gaze, then lost his nerve. “Right, sorry. Thanks. Sorry to bother you. Thanks.” He smiled weakly, then turned and hurried away, heading for the staircase. He looked back when he reached the top of the flight, then quickly descended.

He found the right section in no time, because he knew where it was—he hadn’t even needed to ask. Michael didn’t actually even need to borrow the books from the library—he owned them all, old tomes given to him by his mum and dad as Christmas and birthday gifts after he’d made it clear that Tolkien was, really, the ideal author.

Grabbing the copy of The Silmarillion that was in the same spot on the shelf as the last time he’d been down here, Michael went back upstairs and got on the short line that had formed to wait his turn to check the book out. His librarian—who had never even told Michael his name—was already helping someone, but he worked quickest of the three of them. 

In the time it took for Michael to get to the front of the line, he’d already taken care of three patrons and was on his fourth. The white-haired librarian was handing a library card back to a father, and sliding a small pile of thin, colorful books to his daughter, who took them and held them to her chest like they were made of gold. And then she was beckoning to Michael, who panicked and pretended like he was holding the wrong book after all, and had only just noticed.

“Go ahead,” he said to the teenage girl behind him, who gave him a look but stepped around him, holding a thick stack of what looked like textbooks.

The other librarian, a middle-aged woman with long red hair was just finishing up with another patron, but—Michael leaned over to the side, checking where his librarian was at—he was just finishing up, too. Michael gripped the book in his hand tight, and then both of them called “Next!” at nearly the same moment.

Michael was actually pretty sure that the librarian closest to him, the redhead woman, said it first, but he bypassed her to head to the cute bespectacled librarian with a mop of black hair and skin the prettiest shade of brown he’d ever seen.

“Found it,” Michael said, slapping the book down on the countertop.

“I knew you could do it,” the librarian said dryly, pulling the book toward him and looking expectantly at Michael, who remembered after a beat that he would need to give over his library card. He fished around in his pocket for a moment, pulling it out and then scanning the cards tucked inside it before finding the right one; he handed over the laminated card.

The card was scanned and then the book, and Michael found himself saying words that he didn’t really think he had had any intention, or reason, to say.

“I’m Michael, by the way.”

The librarian paused, tore the receipt that printed out and tucked it into the front cover of the book. He held up Michael’s library card. “I know.” He gave a wry smile and slid the book over to Michael, placing his card on top of it with a snap.

“Right, yeah,” Michael said. He took the book, but when he saw the librarian turning away, checking if there was anyone waiting in line, he blurted out, “What’s your name?”

The brown eyes were back on him, their inherent warmth radiating out from them even with the slightly bemused expression that was on the man’s face, until finally, he spoke. “Calum.”

–

The book sat on Michael's bedside table for two weeks. His own copy of it, slightly larger and not nearly as worn as the library’s copy, was on a shelf above his desk. It didn’t escape him how ludicrous it was for him to take Tolkien’s books out of the library. He could just as easily have picked a different author. He could even have asked Calum for a suggestion, but he didn’t, because his life was a joke.

At least he’d made some progress—after a handful of trips to the library, he’d finally gotten the gorgeous librarian’s name. Sure, he’d made a fool out of himself, but...whatever. They were probably used to that kind of thing. Sometimes book nerds weren’t the most personable people around. He probably wasn’t even the weirdest person Calum had seen _that day_.

But the due date of the book was looming closer, and he would have to make an appearance just to return the damn thing; as much as he might prefer to drop it in the after-hours box, wanting to talk to Calum again, if only to redeem himself, was totally winning out.

On the Saturday before the book was due back, Michael decided to head into town, ready to just face Calum. He figured, maybe, enough time had passed that Calum had forgotten how weird he was, and would instead, maybe, talk books with him. Suggest a title or two, an author if he was really lucky.

The bus was loud and overly hot, but Michael clutched the book to his chest and made the trip anyway, smiling at a little boy across from him, who had one arm linked with his mother’s, tapping away at the screen of her cell phone as he undoubtedly played a game on it. He smiled a little wider when they all got off at the stop for the library, the little boy tugging at his mum’s hand until she laughed, tousling his hair and walking to the children’s section with him.

Michael, however, took his place at the end of the line; he was glad to see that Calum was working, dutifully as ever, his glasses perched at the end of his nose as he scanned library cards and handed books to their borrowers, or took them back and placed them on the cart to be put away.

“Next,” Calum called, and Michael didn’t even have to let anyone go in front of him this time—he really was the next person on line.

Calum glanced over as Michael approached, and Michael caught his expression: a slight smile that he tried to cover up immediately, complete with narrowed eyes. “Good morning,” Calum greeted him.

“Hi,” Michael said, slapping the book down on the counter.

Calum took it and opened the front cover, blinking at the sight of the check-out receipt that was still there, exactly where he’d placed it two weeks prior. He looked up at Michael. “Did you enjoy the book?”

“Yeah,” Michael answered, nodding, not really noticing anything awry. He gave Calum a smile that wasn’t returned.

“Hm,” Calum hummed, crinkling up the receipt and dropping it below the counter, presumably into a garbage pail at his feet, then scanned the book back into the library’s system. “Thank you,” he said, looking at Michael. It wasn’t an outright dismissal, but that was still very much what it was.

“I was wondering,” Michael began, but before he could continue, Calum spoke over him.

“Our Tolkien novels are located downstairs.”

Michael looked taken aback, but then laughed a little, shaking his head. “No, I just...I was wondering if—if you liked him. Tolkien. The lord of...the...rings.” Michael flinched—he’d even confused himself with that one. Was he calling Tolkien the lord of the rings or was he citing the name of his novels? He didn’t even know.

“Do I like Tolkien?” Calum repeated, and Michael nodded, even though that wasn’t really the question that he’d meant to ask at all. Calum sighed, tapping the counter with two fingertips in a rhythm that Michael recognized as probably a song, but one he couldn’t place. “He’s really something else,” Calum said, finally, “but I find his writing particularly dense. It’s hard to follow.”

Michael’s immediate response was to argue—that was what people who didn’t have the patience to sit and read Tolkien said. His mouth was open and he’d gotten out, “Well, actually—” before he remembered that he was pretending not to know Tolkien’s work so he could keep coming to the library and taking out his books. God, he really needed a better cover.

Calum was looking at Michael, one eyebrow quirked like he really wanted to hear what Michael was going to say, but Michael only managed a short, awkward laugh.

“I was going to say that, _actually_ , I think I need to read more before I...can form an opinion,” Michael managed, and Calum smirked. He actually _smirked_.

“Well. As you know, his books are located downstairs.”

“Right,” Michael said, not quite sure if Calum was mocking him or just...playfully teasing him. “I guess I’ll...start with, um, Fellowship, then. Of the Ring.”

“As good a place as any,” Calum said, already turning away. “Next!”

–

Michael didn’t even last a week before he was bringing back the first volume. In his defense, he actually had read it—not the library’s copy, because it had a strange smell that told him that someone before him _didn’t_ take care of books. No, he'd read his own copy, the page edges soft to the touch, off-white from being well-read. His books felt like coming home, and the library’s, in this case, did not; that copy stayed underneath a pile of mail in the kitchen until he remembered that it was due back the next week—and it was then that he found himself on the bus to the library again, this time in the evening.

His hope that Calum was there was ever-present, as usual, much like Calum himself. He was in his seat behind the desk visible upon entering the library, but he was alone there, probably because it was so late in the day. Unfortunately, because it was also practically empty of patrons in the library, Calum also spotted Michael right away.

The smirk was clear on his face, and he just waved Michael over. Michael approached him, placing the book down on the countertop, giving Calum a small smile. Calum met his eyes but only half-smirked in return; he'd opened the cover of the book and, again, found the print-out from when Michael had borrowed the book tucked into the exact same place he'd put it a week prior. Again, he crumpled it up and threw it away.

"So, which did you like better?" Calum asked, scanning the barcode on the back cover of the book, holding it in both hands as he looked up at Michael from his seat. "This, or The Silmarillion?"

Michael smiled easily, Calum noticed, much too easily for someone who wasn't actually reading the books that he was taking out of the library. "This one," Michael said, pointing at the copy of _The Fellowship of the Ring_. It was true, mostly—the series was his favorite, but he really was a sucker for anything Tolkien wrote.

Calum leaned back in his chair, resting the book on his thighs. "Are you excited to read the next one?"

"Yeah," Michael nodded, unsure if he should take this as his cue to leave and go get it, because that was how Calum seemed to operate. He took half a step away, but stopped when Calum spoke to him again.

"I can't wait to hear what you think of it," he said, and Michael nodded, grinning a little, awkwardly holding Calum's gaze until the librarian turned away, putting the book on the cart to be put away later on.

"I'll be right back," Michael said, turning away and heading toward the stairs before Calum could say anything else, and Michael could feel any more awkward, even though he didn't know if he had any real reason to.

Michael could probably find his way to the section where Tolkien was kept with his eyes closed by now, so he hurried down there and grabbed the first copy of The Two Towers he saw, returning to the counter just in time to see Calum call another person over. Michael took his place in line, waiting for his turn, and if he also tried to analyze Calum's interactions with the guy, who could blame him? Calum didn't seem overly friendly—he honestly seemed kind of aloof and snarky—but Michael wanted to make sure that it wasn't just _him_. Maybe Calum was just like that with people.

Watching him, it kind of seemed like it. He noticed that Calum seemed to smile a bit more at the other guy he was dealing with, which he didn't like, but what could he even say about it? He would just stew and be bitter. And maybe deprive Calum of his presence by bringing this book back on the last possible day.

"Next," Calum called to him, and Michael immediately abandoned his plan when he saw the apples of Calum's cheeks round up in a smile when Michael got closer to him.

–

Michael probably should have suspected that it would happen eventually, but when he entered the library to return the second book and pick up The Return of the King, Calum wasn’t there. He’d walked in through the sliding doors, expecting to see himself nearly reflected in the thick lenses of Calum’s glasses, but his seat was filled by another librarian, the redhead from a few weeks prior. Michael stopped in his tracks and scanned the other two seats—more people he didn’t want to deal with. He sighed, heavily, and made his way over to the desk, returning the book he was holding, and then a few minutes later, trudging outside with the third and final volume tucked under his arm.

–

Michael considered calling the library before the next time he made the trip in. The bus was an altogether unpleasant experience in his opinion, and he’d been riding it so frequently lately that he wasn’t even sure anymore if Calum was reason enough to deal with public transport.

That was...a horrendous lie, and Michael knew it, because he was already _on_ the bus to the library as he thought he shouldn’t be. He didn’t even know if Calum was into him. A smile and some playful, snippy comments didn’t really amount to much in the long run, especially when customer service had to be at least a small part of Calum’s job, just being friendly to the library’s patrons.

He considered that Calum had never actually asked him if he’d found the books he was looking for ok, but maybe that was more of a department store thing. Calum had been the one to show him the Tolkien shelves in the first place, anyway.

Michael held his breath as he walked into the library, letting it out in a low whistle when he saw Calum was there, back in his usual place, his hair tousled perfectly and his glasses resting at the end of his nose. Maybe it was a slow day, because Calum was reading a book, one hand holding it open while the other lay loosely wrapped around a mug of something from the library’s café, which looked to be steaming hot. He worried for a second that maybe someone had brought it for Calum. He wondered why that bothered him so much when the two of them had never actually conversed about anything other than Michael’s reading preferences.

The redhead librarian was present too, but she was on the phone, tapping away at her keyboard, so Michael spared himself the extra short walk and instead approached Calum. He put his book down and tried to sneak a peek of what Calum was reading—and felt as though he’d been plunged into ice water when he saw “J.R.R. Tolkien” at the top of one page, and “The Fellowship of the Ring” on the other.

Calum was reading The Lord of the Rings. Calum was reading his favorite author, his favorite series. Michael had no words.

“Hello,” Calum said, obviously having no trouble speaking. He sounded much more cordial than Michael was used to, but maybe that was because it was still early, and Calum hadn’t worked almost a full shift yet.

Without waiting for a response from Michael, Calum pulled the borrowed book toward himself and worked on checking it in.

He noticed, for the third time, that the receipt paper was still stuck into the front cover. Calum himself hadn’t checked out the book, but...it was still a bit fishy in his opinion. Was this guy even reading these books? And if he wasn’t, why not?

“So, what’s next?” Calum was asking him, and Michael blinked, unsure of what he meant.

“Sorry,” Michael mumbled. “What?”

“Your next book,” Calum clarified, reaching up to adjust his glasses a little higher on his nose before he put The Return of the King onto the return cart. “Are you going to stick to Tolkien, or are you going to branch out?”

“Um,” Michael barely managed before Calum was speaking again.

“I just...I can suggest some books I like, if you want. That’s one of the reasons I’m here. To help,” Calum said; he still kind of suspected that Michael was using the Tolkien books for some ulterior motive, but what he was saying, really, was true. He liked to read, and he became a librarian for a multitude of reasons, one of which was to pass that love on to others.

“Sure,” Michael squeaked out. It was much, much easier when he was working with books he already knew, and knew well. But now Calum was taking things into his own hands—and leading Michael upstairs, to the regular fiction section, no fantasy—and messing with Michael. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.

Michael trailed behind Calum as he picked books off of shelves—Catch-22 and Norwegian Wood and Player Piano—all which Michael had heard of before but never bothered to pick up. Calum looked like he wanted to keep going, but he caught sight of Michael’s face—mouth slightly agape, very out of his element—and stopped.

“These are some of my favorites,” Calum said, handing the stack over to Michael. “You can look around some more, see if anything jumps out at you. Next time you come in...we can talk books. Yours and mine.”

Forcing himself to smile, Michael nodded; Calum left him among the shelves, and to his credit, Michael did wander around for a bit—until he found a corner with sunlight streaming through a window, where he settled himself down to sit, opening the first book Calum had chosen for him, and starting to read.

–

It wasn’t a book club, because it was only the pair of them, but every two weeks when Michael would come to the library to return the most recent title that Calum had recommended, he also brought a new recommendation of his own. Calum would take a break, usually just 15 minutes though sometimes he’d steal away for 20, and they would discuss briefly, though deeply, the books they’d each read that week.

Calum, his favorites firmly rooted in fiction with some small twigs extending into other genres, gave Michael books that let him flex his imagination in different ways than his usual fare. Michael, a fantasy connoisseur, gave Calum the keys to new worlds with every title he assigned. They both swore by their suggestions, and even though neither would have seeked them out on their own, did enjoy nearly every book the other chose.

Michael, however, couldn't help holding onto the fact that Calum was apparently reading The Lord of the Rings _for him_ , and he still, after a couple months of their back-and-forth book suggestions, couldn't figure out what that meant. Besides the fact that Calum was busy reading whatever books Michael gave him, Michael caught him sometimes holding a copy of The Two Towers, until finally he had graduated to the third book. It made Michael's heart clench whenever he saw Calum reading one of them.

"I don't know how you do it," Michael said to Calum one day, checking out Calum's newest suggestion; he watched as Calum placed a bookmark into the book. He was nearly halfway through The Return of the King.

"Do what?" Calum asked, sliding his own book aside and taking the one Michael handed to him.

"Read two books at once," Michael said, like it was obvious. He watched as Calum scanned the book into the computer, then Michael's card, before tucking the receipt in place and sliding it back over the counter to Michael.

"It's not that hard, honestly." He placed his hand on the cover of the Tolkien book. "These were books that I could read a bit of, put down, read something else, and return to no problem."

Michael bit the inside of his cheek—he'd always been unable to read more than one book. "Well that's good," he managed, trying not to feel inferior to Calum just because of his reading prowess.

Calum only smiled at him in response. "See you in two weeks."

–

In two weeks, when Michael entered the library, he knew something was off. Calum was there, which was normal, but as soon as he saw Michael by the double doors, he straightened up a little in his seat and beamed wide, his smile overtaking his face.

Michael paused for only a second before continuing over to the line, which was actually kind of lengthy. He'd come in late, just before closing time—his boss had kept him late, late enough that he actually started to worry that the library would close before he got there. Which wouldn't have been the worst thing in the world, other than how he wouldn't get to see Calum. He'd also have to brave the bus again but—really, that was inconsequential in comparison to seeing his librarian.

The library staff were all leaving; those who were finished with their duties were ushering patrons out before leaving themselves. The trickle of people leaving slowed to a stop, and then it was only Calum and one other librarian behind the desk, and Michael in the still somewhat long line waiting to check out books.

As the line moved, occasionally, someone else would appear from the depths of the library, shout a goodnight to the employees still working, and leave, making sure that the doors closed tight behind them.

"Next," Calum called when Michael got close to the front; there were two kids around his age, probably college students, holding a thick stack of books each in front of him, along with a couple and their two children. One was a little boy, holding his mother's hand and yawning, the other was a baby, clinging to his father while he slept. Michael looked past the couple to watch one of the college students walk over to Calum.

"Next," the other librarian called, and the second student walked over to her.

Calum was finished first; he watched the young man gather up his books and take a few steps away, but wait for his friend while she was being checked out.

Michael didn't notice Calum wave the couple over, but they walked to him slowly, the little boy dragging his feet, the dad walking slow and trying not to jostle the infant on his shoulder.

"Can I help you?" the other librarian called to Michael, who looked up at her.

"Yeah, sorry," Michael said; he'd been zoned out, so he had no idea if she'd tried to call him more than once.

"I'll get him, Penny," Calum said, grinning at the redhead woman beside him. "You can take off."

Penny smiled at Calum, then at Michael. "Have a good night," she said, tapping a few keys on her keyboard, clicking a few times with her mouse, and then getting up from her chair and disappearing through a door in the back.

Calum led the couple with the children to the door and held it for them as they filed out, and then closed it firmly and locked it to keep anyone else from wandering in as though the library was still open.

"Cut it close," Calum said to Michael from across the lobby, as he walked back across the atrium and rounded the desk, sitting back down in his chair.

"Work kept me late," Michael explained, handing the book back to Calum, who set about returning it.

He was quiet, which Michael supposed wasn't out of the ordinary, but after Calum turned to put the book on the now-empty returns cart, he stood up from his chair as well.

"I'll be right back," Calum said, and Michael managed an "Oh, ok," placing his hands flat on the counter and leaning over it. Calum had walked through the same door as Penny, but while she hadn't come back, Calum appeared after a few minutes, holding a tan plastic bag with what looked like a thick book inside of it.

"I maybe shouldn't have," Calum said, putting the bag down on the counter. He grasped the mouse and clicked a few times on his computer, too, turning the monitor off as Michael heard the machine power down, "but I kind of think you were just pretending to read these books to come in and see me—I'm really hoping I'm not wrong about that, but honestly, whenever you brought the books back, it seemed like you never even opened them."

Michael fought to keep his mouth closed, because Calum had him exactly right, which meant that Calum had read The Lord of the Rings all because he thought Michael would want him to, even though he also thought Michael had never read them. These were like...highly intellectual mind games that he didn't think he even fully understood, which was maddening and yet somehow...Michael was really into them?

"Ok," Michael said, and Calum kept going.

"So, anyway, I thought...you might want to try reading them for real, so..." He trailed off, opening the crinkling bag and reading into it, pulling out a book, which Michael had expected.

What he _didn't_ expect was for it to be a _very_ nice, leatherbound tome of the complete series, all the books collected in one volume—the spine even showed that  The Hobbit was included. Michael literally didn't know what to say.

"I found it in a secondhand store," Calum said, which put the Michael's fear that Calum had spent a fortune on it to rest. "I saw it and thought of you." He paused. "For the record, they're really good. You'd like them."

Michael couldn't help himself—he actually laughed a little, and then felt a pang of guilt when Calum's expression faltered, like Michael had offended him.

"I can't believe how sweet you are," he managed, and now Calum just looked confused. "I have a confession to make."

Calum pursed his lips, sucked in a deep breath, and then sighed, apparently convinced that he was about to be made a fool of. "Ok."

"You were right," Michael said, and Calum put the book down on top of the bag, flattening it. The edges of the pages were silver, Michael saw, matching the script embossed in the front cover. "I wasn't reading the books." Calum took another deep breath, opening his mouth, but Michael spoke over anything he was about to say. "I've read them all already. Tolkien is my favorite author. So...I _was_ just pretending to read them. 'Cause...yeah. I wanted to come in and see you." He laughed a little, though this time it was quieter, more self-deprecating.

Calum held his gaze, then looked down at the book, opening the cover. The leather creaked as it opened, but Calum let go of it, and it fell shut.

"So me getting you this was pretty stupid," Calum said, looking at Michael, his glasses low enough on his nose that he was able to meet Michael's eyes over the rims.

"Are you kidding?" Michael said, now serious. He reached out for the book hesitantly, pulling it closer to him—distantly, somewhere else in the library, they heard a door close, probably as Penny left through a back door. "I love it, it's gorgeous." He opened the cover again and flipped a few pages—it really was a beautifully put together collection. Michael looked back up at Calum, who had a small smile on his face—he could see Michael's sincerity reflected on his face. "Thank you."

"Should we go pick you out a new book?" Calum asked, a smile playing over his lips.

"You just turned off your computer," Michael said, glancing over at the monitor.

Calum only shrugged. "Let's go anyway. I bet we find something you like."

Michael bit his lip, then nodded. "Should I just leave this here?"

"Yeah," Calum said, already walking to the end of the counter, rounding it and waiting for Michael to join him. Michael stepped over to him, pausing at his side for a moment before the two of them took off. Michael went to turn upstairs, to the section Calum usually took him to, but Calum stopped near the descending staircase.

"Oh," Michael said, one foot already on the stairs to head to the upper level. "I just thought—"

Calum snickered, then shook his head. "Honestly, I just—" he said, laughing a little. "I just wanted to go somewhere more private, it really doesn't matter which floor we're on."

"Why?" Michael asked, flicking his eyes down to Calum's lips, not even sure why he would want to go "somewhere private," but knowing, deep down, that he probably wanted whatever Calum wanted too.

Adjusting his glasses, Calum shrugged one shoulder, then glanced over at Michael. "Don't tell me you wanted to come see me for a reason other than because you were into me," he said, trying for a laugh, but a little too nervously for it to be sincere. "Come on."

Michael smirked, taking pity on him—he reached over, hooking his arm around Calum's shoulders, and pulled him in closer. "No, that's...that's totally why."

Calum grinned at him, his cheeks round, and Michael could barely keep himself from kissing Calum right there—Calum wanted to wait until they were more out of sight, so Michael would wait. He released Calum and followed him downstairs, the two of them making their way through the bookshelves, until they reached the far corner, where there was a comfortable chair settled, along with a small table with a stack of books on it. Calum clucked his tongue and muttered something about someone forgetting to put them away, but he made no further mention of it once they reached the chair.

But then they both just sort of stood there awkwardly, until Michael broke the silence.

"Um," was all he said, and Calum laughed.

"Sorry," he said, smiling. "I've never...propositioned someone in my own library before? I just thought—I mean, I thought we both seemed pretty attracted to each other, so we might as well just...and now we're down here, so." He stopped himself and looked over at Michael.

"Shit," Michael said. "And I thought I was bad at this kind of thing."

"Shut up," Calum said, but Michael only smirked and stepped closer to him, his eyes moving over Calum's lips again before they both leaned in. Michael's hand wrapped around Calum's arm, the fabric of his shirtsleeve cool to the touch, and their lips met in a kiss that Calum deepened right away, his own hands taking hold of Michael's waist.

Calum's tongue swiped over Michael's lower lip, parting them; his tongue moved over Michael’s, then, and Michael actually pulled him even closer, fingertips digging into Calum’s arms. Their fronts were flush together as Michael’s back pressed into the wall behind him, and Calum moved one hand up from Michael’s hip to lay his palm flat against the wall beside Michael’s head. Michael exhaled softly against Calum’s cheek, breaking the kiss, and met his eyes; this close up, not even the thick lenses of Calum’s glasses could hide the warmth from Calum’s eyes, their depth as he looked back into Michael’s.

Michael’s lips quirked up at the corner, his eyes moving from Calum’s eyes to his lips, then up his arm, taking in how Calum was framing him into the corner. “I don’t think I expected a librarian to kiss like that,” he said, and Calum pushed his hips into Michael’s, effectively shutting him up, or trying to.

“I didn’t expect that either,” Michael quipped, and Calum narrowed his eyes a little, but was entirely unable not to smirk at him, leaning in again and kissing him—which really did shut him up that time.

Michael lowered his hands from Calum’s arms to his lower back, holding Calum’s front against his own as they both ground their hips forward, into each other; Michael could already tell he was chubbing up, his cock hardening just from the friction alone. He tried to untuck Calum’s shirt, pulling it up from the confines of his slacks, tugging it out. Calum let him, not protesting at all but leaning back from Michael just a little so he was able to start to unbutton the shirt too.

It didn’t take long for Michael to get the shirt half off of Calum, the fabric bunching up at his shoulders—he pulled back fully from Michael, shrugging the shirt off and tossing it onto the chair beside them. Michael quickly followed suit and pulled off his t-shirt—plain, black, the only kind he was allowed to wear at work. It landed on top of Calum’s shirt and neither of them even bothered to give the other a look before they were back on each other, their mouths moving together, Michael’s hands working over the bare skin of Calum’s, Calum’s on Michael’s chest, touching him everywhere he could.

“Do you even have anything?” Michael asked, breathless, knowing that if they kept this up he wouldn’t want to stop—and lowkey hoping Calum felt the same.

“Yeah,” Calum mumbled, licking into Michael’s mouth one more time, sating him with the answer to his question as well as physically.

Michael lowered his hands to Calum’s ass, squeezing him through his pants, smiling as he felt Calum smile against his lips; he pulled away after a moment, though, lowering his mouth to Michael’s jaw, kissing him along it before ducking down further, letting his lips drag over his neck. Michael sighed softly and leaned his head to the side, giving Calum more room to kiss him there.

Calum’s hands had moved back down to his hips, holding him, his thumbs moving over Michael’s front and tickling him, just a little, enough for him to glance down his body and take in the contrast between himself and Calum’s brown skin against him. He really, really liked the look of it—and he lifted his eyes to Calum’s, not missing the tattoos adorning his chest and arm that he would definitely probably ask about later, when he wasn’t about to hook up with the hottest librarian he’d ever seen, _in_ the library itself.

“What?” Calum asked, noticing Michael’s eyes lingering on his body, before he realized that he didn’t even need to ask the question—it was obvious why Michael was looking at him.

“You,” Michael answered, keeping it simple, before sliding his hands from Calum’s ass to his hips, and then finally to the front of his body, working on unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants.

Calum leaned in again, kissing Michael as he undressed him, feeling rather than seeing him working his pants down, pushing them over his thighs; Calum slipped his feet out of his dress shoes and socks and stepped out of his pants without moving much further away from Michael, kicking the garment to the side. He sucked Michael’s lower lip before he heard more fabric rustling and glanced down—Michael was stripping out of his jeans now, pushing them down, revealing his semi to Calum; it was tenting the front of his underwear from his body.

“You said you had something, right?” Michael asked again, because they’d gone this far, and Michael wasn’t sure if he was really about to leave the library with just a book and not, like, a boyfriend. Which was maybe getting too ahead of himself, but he was a romantic. Despite the casual sex thing, he really was. Totally.

“Yeah,” Calum said, stepping back from Michael this time, backing up a step to look where his slacks had gotten to; he squatted down, picking them up off the floor and tugged his wallet out of the side pocket.

“Seriously?” Michael asked, snickering as he watched Calum open the folded wallet up and pull out a condom and, surprisingly, a small packet of lube.

“What, you don’t carry this kind of stuff around with you?” Calum asked, checking over the condom to make sure it was still ok—he’d replaced it just recently, so it probably would be perfectly fine.

“A rubber I can see, but you really carry lube with you?” Michael asked, looking down at Calum as he fiddled with the lube packet, making sure that it hadn’t leaked or anything, though he was sure that he would have known if it did.

“Aren’t you glad that I do?” Calum countered, looking up at Michael from the floor for a moment before standing, a smirk firmly plastered on his face. He tossed the condom onto the chair, holding onto the lube.

“You got me there,” Michael replied, smiling easily at Calum before reaching out and slipping two fingers into the waistband of his underwear, hooking them into the elastic and pulling him closer. “Now come here.” Michael took Calum’s lips in a kiss again, pulling his hips closer to press against him—without their pants in the way, only two thin layers of cotton separating them, each could feel heat from the other’s cock, firm against their hips.

Calum kept the lube tucked between two fingers, letting his hands explore Michael’s body anyway, his hands soft and warm, making Michael sigh each time they dipped down low, trailing over his stomach, or the front of his hips; even when they ghosted over his underwear, barely touching his cock, Michael felt himself twitch against Calum’s palm, his head rolling back to rest against the wall behind him.

Michael’s cock was hard below his hand and Calum didn’t want to wait any longer—he wanted more of Michael, _now_. The two of them had been circling the other for weeks— _months_ , really, since Michael had started borrowing books that he already owned just to talk to Calum—and now that they were here, together, like this, Calum was already ready to move forward, and it seemed that Michael was too.

“Get these off,” Calum said, squeezing Michael’s hip through his underwear, then retracting both of his hands from Michael’s body and stepping back a little, pushing his own boxers down, kicking them to the side as well. He glanced up in time to see Michael looking at him, eyes sweeping over his front, before he hooked his thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxer-briefs and lowered them, too.

Calum couldn’t help himself—he did exactly the same thing that Michael did, letting his eyes rake over Michael’s front, taking in every part of him that he could see.

“How—?” Michael asked, tongue darting out over his lower lip, eyes lingering for a moment on Calum’s cock before finding his hand, still clutching the packet of lube.

“Hold onto me,” Calum said, taking hold of Michael’s wrist and moving it to his shoulder, then reaching down. Michael inhaled sharply, probably expecting Calum to touch his cock, but he didn't, instead reaching past it for his thigh, lifting Michael’s leg. “Can you hold yourself up?” Calum asked.

Michael lowered his free hand, holding his knee, using Calum for balance; he’d just managed to regain it when he felt the back of Calum’s hand brush against his balls, and then move away. He took a long breath and then held it, even though Calum’s fingers felt slick, which meant he had coated them with some of the lube; he loosed the breath slowly as one of Calum’s fingers moved against him, trying to find his hole without looking. Michael whimpered as Calum’s fingertip moved over it, and then focused on it, rubbing in small circles to try and loosen him up.

Another soft whine fell from Michael’s lips as Calum leaned in closer to him, his wrist bent, the backs of his fingers pressing against Michael’s ass cheek as he finally tried to finger him for real, slowly at first, gently coaxing Michael open for himself. Calum kissed Michael’s chest and neck, sucking soft bruises into him as his finger finally moved into Michael, stretching him that final bit more that he needed, and Michael jerked his hips forward, needing some friction on his dick, but the head of his cock was all he got it on, as it brushed against Calum’s stomach.

“Fuck,” Michael whispered as Calum’s teeth pinched down on his collarbone, kissing him there before moving back up to his neck; he was still working his finger in and out of Michael, getting him used to it before he tried for more.

“Ok?” Calum asked, nuzzling Michael’s neck a little, pushing his finger in as deep as he could get it, then pulling it back out, slowly.

“Yeah,” Michael gasped, nodding, angling his hips forward into Calum, asking for more without saying it. “Come on.”

Calum licked his lip, then bit down on it in concentration, angling his fingers just a little, pressing the tips gently against Michael before he felt his index finger slide in beside his middle finger. Michael sighed heavily, eyes slipping shut as he leaned his head back against the wall, his cheeks pink from the exertion of balancing on one foot, while also being fingered, pleasure coiling low in his belly.

“Let me know when you can take three,” Calum mumbled, and Michael just nodded, his eyes still closed, though now he was rocking his hips back and forth into Calum’s hand as he scissored his fingers open, stretching him a bit more each time, fucking him slow but deep.

Michael lowered his chin, trying to get Calum’s mouth near his own; Calum took the hint and kissed him again, their lips parting against each other’s right away, Michael panting small moans against Calum’s lips and tongue, Calum unable to keep his lips from curling into a smirk against Michael’s.

“Calum,” Michael whined after his fingertips just brushed over his prostate, his cock twitching a little at the contact. He was aware of the tip feeling cold and wet, because he was leaking precome, which smeared against Calum’s front as Michael rolled his hips forward again.

“Yeah?” Calum asked, his nose brushing Michael’s as he turned his head slightly.

“Do three,” Michael said, out of breath, the hand holding his leg up trembling a little as Calum granted his request, shifting his weight just a little to accommodate what Michael asked for; he lined his ring finger up with his hole, letting it slide into place as he fucked into Michael fully with his fingers.

Michael let out a groan that made Calum glad it was just the two of them in the library—he wasn’t quiet in the slightest, though he kept rolling his hips into Calum’s hand, forcing the tips of his fingers against his prostate each time Calum moved into him.

“Shit,” Michael sighed, lifting his head and opening his eyes, finally, to look at Calum, his eyes hooded and pupils blown wide with arousal. Calum met his gaze and kissed him, again and again, his free hand squeezing down on Michael’s hip, not stopping fingering him, keeping stretching him, until the hand Michael had on his shoulder was squeezing down tight, gripping him like Calum was the only thing he could feel anymore, and he was whispering urgently, “I’m ready, I’m ready, Calum—”

Calum licked his lip again, pressed one final kiss to the corner of Michael’s mouth, and then slowly pulled his fingers out, letting Michael lower his trembling leg back to the floor; he leaned against the wall as Calum returned to the chair and picked up the condom and the remainder of the lube. He awkwardly stood for a minute, not sure which he should put down until Michael reached around him and plucked the condom from his hand.

“Let me,” he said, his voice still a little shaky, but he tore the wrapper open and dropped it to the floor, moving Calum bodily so he was facing him again, then took hold of his cock. Calum sighed quietly, watching as Michael stroked him just to make sure he was fully erect; the head of his cock was a dark pink, he saw, and he gasped quietly when Michael’s thumb circled the slit before he pulled away and rolled the condom onto him, making sure it was pulled all the way down his length.

Instead of moving on with the lube, Calum leaned in to kiss Michael, slowly, wanting him to feel it and know Calum really meant it. Michael kissed him back, smiling against his mouth, before Calum pulled away to squeeze what was left of the lube into his palm, slicking it over the condom, making sure it was covered before he even thought about pushing into Michael.

“How?” Michael asked again, and Calum looked around them for a moment before he just gestured to the floor, shrugging a little. Michael looked around them, like it actually mattered, and then nodded, lowering himself to his knees and looked back over his shoulder, making sure that Calum was also getting himself to the floor too before he leaned forward, his hands sinking into the carpet. He knew after this he would have rug burn on his knees, but at the same time he didn’t give a single fuck.

Behind him, Calum moved as close as he needed to on his knees, pushing Michael’s legs a little bit further apart, exposing his hole. He moved one hand to Michael’s hips, holding him in place while he held his cock steady with the other, fitting the head against Michael’s asshole and leaning into him, until finally the head slipped inside of him. Calum bit back a moan at how tight Michael felt around him, but Michael had no trouble vocalizing, moaning at the feeling of Calum as he pushed into him, stretching him out just with the width of his cock moving deeper and deeper into him.

“Go,” Michael said, not even waiting for Calum to bottom out before he wanted more movement; Calum listened, pulling out before fucking back into him. This time, the front of his hips hit Michael’s ass, and Michael moaned, his hands curling into fists, resting just on the heels of his hands. “ _Fuck_ , that’s good,” he whined, pushing back into Calum every time he moved forward into him.

Calum thought the same, really, though he didn’t know if he could speak; he was humming low in his throat in fucking ecstasy, his hands clamped down on Michael’s hips, fucking into him hard, fast. He hadn’t even touched his dick, at all, but being inside Michael was getting him there, really fucking quickly.

“Fuck,” Calum bit out, leaning down over Michael, changing the angle at which he was thrusting into him; Michael arched his back up into Calum, wanting all the contact he could get, his cock hanging hot and heavy between his legs. He could tell he was dripping precome, he had to be, because he could feel droplets land on his stomach each time Calum fucked into him with a bit of extra force, snapping his hips forward. Michael lowered himself to one elbow, and Calum followed as best he could, keeping himself pressed against Michael.

Quivering, Michael moved his shaking hand to touch himself, his dick so, so fucking hard, and, he found, sensitive as hell. He let out an unbidden moan when he got his hand on it, jerking himself off quickly, wanting to fucking get off with Calum pounding his ass, fucking him; he knew it was probably wrong to be having sex in the library, but that was also part of the appeal—the taboo made it even better and so fucking worth it.

“You close?” Calum said in Michael’s ear, voice low, thick with arousal. He didn’t slow his pace, but he had curled one arm around Michael’s stomach, holding him tight, even as Michael was fucking his fist, jerking himself off, his cock wet with precome.

“Yes,” he gasped out, squeezing down tighter on his cock, the pressure there making him tighten down on Calum, too, who whined.

“Fuck, I—too, am,” Calum said, not all the words making it out of his mouth, but Michael knew what he meant, and ground his ass back into Calum, taking him as deep as he could but still wanting more. He leaned forward as Calum pulled out, before pushing backward as Calum fucked back in, and then before Michael even knew it, Calum’s face was buried in the back of his shoulder, his lips parted in a moan, and Michael knew Calum was coming, finally done, deep inside of him, Michael’s ass tight and hot around him.

He had stopped moving, but Michael hadn’t; he squeezed down on the cock inside of him repeatedly, drawing forth mewls and whimpers from Calum, but Michael needed to come too, so he didn’t stop moving his hand over himself, jerking as quickly as he could, until he spilled too, all over his hand, his semen dripping from between his fingers onto the carpet.

Calum’s face was still at his back, his lips placing gentle kisses to his shoulderblades and spine, before he straightened up, pulling out of Michael slowly, both of them whining at the feeling of it.

Michael pushed himself up too, sitting on his knees, though he turned to face Calum, who was sitting with his legs further apart than Michael. Michael kissed him slow and soft as Calum worked the condom off of his softening length, tying it off as he broke the kiss and pushed himself up to his feet; there was a garbage pail near the computer that patrons could use to search for books in the library—he’d just bury it in there among the discarded paper to be emptied the next day.

He returned to Michael, who was—gone. His clothes were still there, but he was gone.

“Michael?” Calum asked, hurrying over to the chair, concern gripping him. “Where—?”

“Over here,” Michael said from behind Calum, who turned to see Michael, clad only in his boxer-briefs, peeking out from a shelf down the aisle.

“What are you doing?” Calum asked, pulling his own boxers on, reaching for his pants.

“Leave those,” Michael said, then disappeared again. Calum frowned, but left them and padded after Michael.

“What are you doing?” he asked again, once he reached the shelf Michael was inspecting.

“You have to help me pick out a new book,” Michael said, as though searching for a novel to read, in one’s underwear, after hours, was a perfectly normal occurrence.

“Fine,” Calum said, sighing but smiling—he was fully willing to accept that maybe, with Michael, it would have to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [maybeillfindyouhere](http://maybeillfindyouhere.tumblr.com/) • Come say hi!
> 
> _Title from "The Only One" by Manchester Orchestra._


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